


Boundaries

by amateurotaku



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Abusing Power(?), Age Difference, Alternate Universe - High School, M/M, My First Work in This Fandom, Underage Drinking, Write Drunk Edit Sober
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-27
Updated: 2014-04-27
Packaged: 2018-01-17 04:05:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1373314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amateurotaku/pseuds/amateurotaku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eren finds himself lost and alone in this merciless, beautiful world. Levi is his psychiatrist. We all have flaws, and we all have secrets. Even those we look up to the most.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The sunlight trickled in through the gap between the two towels, cutting my dream short. We couldn’t afford curtains, so Mikasa had improvised with two Walmart towels, taped to the bar that ran along the top of the window. I made a mental note to buy some real ones later. The cruddy little town of Stohess was not above towel curtains, but something told me I would never make it out of here. The thought itself made me want to go back to bed.

                My Sex Pistols tee shirt had ridden up as I slept, provoking a distained grunt from Mikasa as I entered the kitchen. She was sitting on the kitchen counter, legs crossed with a cup of coffee in her hand.

                “Gross. I don’t wanna see that.”

                I made a scowl in reply, reaching underneath and pulling the fabric down for “modesty’s sake.” It wasn’t like there was anyone to see. No one was here to criticize. The apartment seemed very large with only two hungry teenagers occupying it, like an itchy, oversized sweater. We had already sold a couple pieces of furniture, once we realized he wasn’t coming back. We didn’t discuss why Dad left because it didn’t matter. Talking about it wouldn’t make him appear.

                Mikasa and I made small chat for a while, dancing around the topic of future plans. She had applied to Reed and UCLA as a long shot. Both out of state. She was gifted intellectually, she just didn’t apply herself. She used to play soccer for the school, believe it or not. Her calves were the size of the coach’s triceps, and she was so close to becoming the varsity athlete cliché. That was before mom died. She had a competitive nature about her, but she was also extremely picky. Most of the time, she didn’t give a damn about much of anything. 

                “Do you need a ride home from school?” She asked, an eyebrow raised as she lifted the cup to her lips. The dark circles under her eyes did not go unnoticed. 

                “No, I think I’m going to hang out with Reiner,” I said, noting the retching gesture she made into her cup. She probably thought I had ulterior motives, but she didn’t let on. Reiner Braun was the varsity football hunk, had money to spare, and he usually spent it on alcohol. He had invited me and Mikasa over one day when his parents were out of town. To be truthful, he had only formally invited Mikasa, but she had reasoned with him to let me come. That was the first time I blacked out.   

\- - - -

                The school day ticked by slowly. I didn’t get to see Armin until lunch, but the wait was always worth it. We had been friends for so long that the time period of three class periods was enough to keep a conversation going. Mikasa sat beside me, staring into her chocolate milk with a strange intensity. Armin sat across from us, his blue eyes glowing with a child-like wonder.  I love the kid, but he was way too happy that Mr. Smith, his science teacher, had returned from vacation.

                “Now he can grade all my tests! I’ve been getting a lot of help from him after school…him being gone was so hard! Cause like, the substitute didn’t know what she doing! I had to learn the whole chapter by myself.” Armin exhaled a visible breath of relief, popping a fruit snack into his mouth.

                “Armin, you still suck at Chemistry.”

                “Well, at least I’m trying! You didn’t even come to class yesterday.” I felt something hit the side of my face, looking down to see his fruit snack, now submerged in my mac and cheese. I could only smirk back and pick it out with my fingers, chewing it cautiously. 

                The rest of the day passed easily, with the thought of Reiner’s booze enough to get me through school. I would reconsider my morals later. For now, the only thing on my mind was getting out, relaxing on his leather couch, and burning a considerable hole in my throat with a beautiful amount of Fireball.

                The final bell rang, and I was running, truly running away from the school. The back way would be quicker, and I soon made my way behind the back of the campus, where the sports track and portables were situated. I couldn’t help running like a idiot around the portable, making a beeline for the fence that would lead my way to freedom.

                A recognizable smell caught my attention, and I stopped in my tracks to turn ninety degrees, facing the back of a portable. My shoes pushed the mud out of place beneath me, and the sight that met my eyes made my insides heave.

                Fucking Jean Kirschtein. His beady eyes caught mine, and for a good two seconds nothing was said. He looked like a sad deer in the headlights. The pipe in his hand said enough.

                “What the fuck are you looking at, Jaeger?” He said, sliding the pipe into his coat pocket and taking a couple steps towards me. It wasn’t until after he spoke that I peeled my eyes away from him and realized with a strange clarity that there were others by him, hunched over, getting a rise from the high. One face stuck out: Marco Bolt. He was looking at Jean with a worried expression, and seemed very out of place. 

As Jean walked forward, I realized he was noticeably taller than me. Things had changed since I forced sand in his mouth in the fourth grade.

                “I knew you were pathetic, but a pot head, too? Jesus Christ. And you made Marco stoop to your low.” I nudged my head in his general direction, eyes still locked on Jean. By now he was so close that I could smell his drugstore deoderant.  I knew I was being a hypocrite, but that would remain a secret for as long as it could. My eyes glanced from Marco to Jean with a shit-faced smirk.

                “I didn’t know sucking your dick was a prerequisite to hang out with you, Jean.” 

                I could feel the force of two large hands push against my chest with a full momentum, sending me reeling. It wiped the smirk off my face, and I maintained my footing as the pain in my chest already started to ebb. In the distance, I could hear Jean yell something, but it sounded far away and murky. My thoughts ran a mile a minute, trying to process what he said, but soon it became clear.

                “You should ask your sister about that. She seemed to like it. ”

                It all becomes fuzzy after that. I remember the smell of blood in-between my fingernails, Jean’s crumpled face, and the feeling of my limp body being lifted off the ground.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Tiny bit of self-harm. Thank you to all who stop by. I appreciate it. xx

                 I was told to come in before school the next day. There was no getting around it, and I didn't have the audacity to skip. They did know where we lived, thanks to the school records. Mikasa slipped an arm around my shoulder, guiding me into the office. I  could smell the cigarettes on her breath. She held onto me like I was going to shatter. I wish I could have.

                Mr. Pixis’s mouth was grim, but he seemed to be smiling with his eyes. Mikasa pulled up a chair beside me, crossing her legs and leaning back. She was eighteen, so she was technically a guardian, right? I was impressively unaware to how these things went. I tried to tune things out as much as possible, otherwise I would get heated about things more than usual.There was nowhere to look but down. I couldn’t meet Pixis’s eyes. My hands were clenched in my lap, faint outlines of bite marks showing up against the harsh fluorescent light. I examined the bumpy patches of skin, spying flecks of red under my fingernails and in the creases of my fingers. His blood was still on my skin. Frustration boiled inside me. The only thought that calmed me was to replay the feeling of weightlessness, the absolute bliss of someone picking up my limp body.

                “I hope you understand, Mr. Jaeger, that this kind of behavior will not be tolerated. I’ve reviewed your file, and you are a repeat offender of this sort of behavior.” Mr. Pixis glanced down at the manila envelope on his desk, which I assumed was my permanent record. Scattered bits of memory filtered behind my hooded eyes –how fucked up did they categorize me here? What level did they place me at? Without a beat of hesitation, he opened the file to the first page, a table of contents as it were, and cleared his throat.

                “In the 7th grade, you started an altercation with another student. In the 8th grade, you defiled school property over a confrontation with an instructor. And this past year, you were caught smoking in the men’s restroom.” 

                I couldn’t look up from my lap. Mikasa had given me those cigarettes for Christmas.  

                “You do not seem to be academically motivated. Your grades are low, and your teachers have multiple concerns.”

                I expected more of a lecture, and it took all of me to lift my head to meet his gaze. “Eren, the injuries you inflicted on that boy are serious. You bruised his rib, and his face is almost unrecognizable.” The sentence trailed off, and it seemed the right time to apologize. To beg for my life and request just one more chance of a suspension. But somehow, my throat closed up. I opened my mouth, but no words came out. Pixis’s eyebrows crumbled slightly before he looked down to the folder, adjusting his glasses.

                “Thankfully, the Kirstein family is not pressing charges. Mr. Jaeger, I have no choice but to request for an expulsion. You are banned from school property for the remaining academic year. The school will also provide you with two free sessions with a psychiatrist for your anger management. If you can complete those two sessions, and stay out of trouble, then I will consider revoking the expulsion at the end of the quarter.”

                 He had gone so easy on me. I shot the man across from me the most exasperated eye roll I could. I answered back with a curt, “Alright.”

 - - - - - -

                My therapy appointment wasn’t until Friday afternoon, but the days soon crawled by. Not showing up for school sounds exciting the first day, but by the third day of not moving from my room, the muscles in my body began to ache. Thinking too hard about things became exhausting. The light at the end of the tunnel was the whiskey that had been somehow preserved from last weekend. I picked myself off the bed and let the cold floor sink into the bottoms of my feet, dragging them to the kitchen. By my fourth shot, the reality of my situation sank in – I was not going back to school, maybe for the whole year. As much as school was shitty, it was a kid’s only lifeline to the outside world. Every time I thought about school, my fist hit the wall and the other lifted the liquid to my lips. It felt like a game, and I couldn’t help but snicker. My breath smelled like shit. I couldn’t remember how much alcohol I had in my at this point. Was it enough to forget? A thin line of sweat started to form on my forehead. I sat back and listened to my breathing, forced and loud. If I tried really hard, I could shut out all the other noises except my breathing. I think I started to scream. Why couldn’t anyone hear me? I didn’t hear the sound of the keys jingle in the lock as my fist hit drywall, or the sound of Armin’s light footsteps run down the hallway, but before I knew it he was trying to pull me away from the hole I had created.  

                “Armin, stop! Get off of me!” I resisted his hold on me, trying to fight until it was clear he would not give in. My hand tightened its grip on his sleeve. I wanted to push him away, to get out of his constricting grip. The damaged hand rose up to my mouth, and I bit down on a large piece of skin on the back of my hand until the taste of copper filled my mouth. I spit out the blood, feeling the high come down as I finally registered the pain.

                There was that feeling again – weightless, like a rag doll. All my anger trickled away, and seemed to leave my body after every exhale. Someone was holding me, caring for me. My knuckles ached and my elbows were stiff, the feeling of loneliness bubbling up was almost too much to bear. I let the liquor settle in my stomach, spreading warmth everywhere. I slid away until my back rested against the fridge. We avoided each other's gaze until it became too much, and I was surprised to find myself chuckling. He returned the gesture. 

                “Eren, I’m so sorry, I should have come earlier…”

                “Armin, its fine. Stop worrying so much, Christ.” In truth, I had never wanted to be in someone’s presence as badly as now.

                “But your hand,” he replied, propping me up against the wall before holding my hand in his own, accessing the damage.

                “Its fine, I’ve had worse.” Those words hung in the air for a moment, testing their impact before I cackled like a hyena. Everything about my life was funny all of a sudden. The clouds covered the sun and a darkness fell over the room. What time was it? What day was it? Nothing really mattered in the realm of time anymore. “Why should I be worried about a fucking hole in the wall? We don’t even have a toaster…” I took another large drink of the whiskey, until the taste started to creep out of my nostrils. It hit the bottom of my stomach like lead. 

                “You know where our toaster is now? Mikasa sold it to a guy for twenty bucks.” I still remembered that day. Armin seemed to reflect, eyebrows creased in a look of entertained confusion. It was as if he could see right through to my pain. He didn’t know how to respond, so he just took a swig before handing the bottle back.    

“You look like you wanted to tell me something.”

The blonde-haired boy looked down, eyeing the bottle for a second before standing up. “It’s nothing. Why don't we go to your room and lay down, okay?” His voice came out like silk, just what I needed. The blonde stood up and started walking away, but I didn’t think I could have made it that far. The hardwood floor felt so nice against my burning skin, and I could feel sleep take over me. Everything faded into a rosy black, the colors behind my eyelids swimming. My bottle of whiskey lay tucked under my right arm like a stuffed animal.


End file.
